Santa Claus: The Movie
(1985)
(SPOILERS) Alexander Salkind (alongside son Ilya) inhabited not dissimilar
territory to the more prolific Dino De Laurentis, in that his idea of manufacturing
a huge blockbuster appeared to be throwing money at it while being stingy with,
or failing to appreciate, talent where it counted. Failing to understand the
essential ingredients for a quality movie, basically, something various
Hollywood moguls of the ‘80s would inherit. Santa
Claus: The Movie arrived in the wake of his previously colon-ed big hit, Superman: The Movie, the producer
apparently operating under the delusion that flying effects and :The Movie in the title would induce
audiences to part with their cash, as if they awarded Saint Nick a must-see
superhero mantle. The only surprise was that his final cinematic effort, Christopher Columbus: The Discovery, wasn’t
similarly sold, but maybe he’d learned his lesson by then. Or maybe not, given
the behind-camera talent he failed to secure.
The most startling nugget concerning Santa Claus, besides the very telling Wikipedia entry noting [citation needed] against the claim “it has since gained a cult following and
become one of the most watched Christmas movies of all time” (yeah, right)
is that John Carpenter’s services were once in serious contention. At first
glance, the idea simply does not compute. Carpenter, the horror titan, making a
most Christmassy of movies? Even given that he wanted input into the
screenplay, score, and final cut (and $5m, and Brian Dennehy as Santa). Then
one considers that his last picture had been the entirely atypical romance Starman, and that he produced the
ill-fated attempt to spin his most famed title into a series of anthology sequels
(Halloween III: The Season of the Witch).
After all, that movie also takes place at a famous calendar
date, also features a toy manufacturer planning to make a massive impact on said
date, and both even feature deadly consequences associated with their product
(albeit, in Santa Claus’ case, it’s
an unfortunate side effect). It was actually Starman that got Salkind interested, though, evidence of a softer,
more family-friendly side to the director. I’d be surprised if the main bone of
contention wasn’t ultimately the money. While he was very fond of throwing
actors ridiculous amounts to get a headliner, he was none-too picky with his
directors.
Richard Donner was his most notable, and they had serious
disagreements. Richard Lester was just very agreeable, hence being brought on
to finish Superman II. The producer
had a curious persuasion towards Bond
directors, probably because Cubby Broccoli had a similar lack of interest in
visionaries who might eclipse himself as producer (Guy Hamilton and Lewis
Gilbert were potentials, John Glen eventually directed The Discovery). Robert Wise was the most illustrious name
considered and that was probably more down to Star Trek: The Motion Picture (the title is very nearly Star Trek: The Movie so probably
attracted Salkind’s attention for that alone) than anything else in his
filmography. That Salkind ended up with Jeannot Szwarc, more prolific on TV
than in movies and the B-list helmer of Jaws
2 and calling the shots on the producer’s then-current production Supergirl, says it all. Both Supergirl and Santa Clause look cheap, tacky and artistically bereft, despite the
cash thrown at them.
As with most Salkind projects, there was a long wish list of potential stars
who were never going to come on board, although it appears cuddly Dudley was
always a fixture. And this wasn’t necessarily
a bad premise; a movie focussing on Santa’s not-so-little helper genuinely did become a Christmas favourite nearly
two decades later. These days, a name actor appearing in a Christmas movie is
often a sign they’re desperate (Tim Allen, Vince Vaughn) or looking for a quick
hit (Bill Murray). A few years before, Moore had become an unlikely superstar off
the back of dual hits 10 and Arthur; Salkind should have seen as, as
should the bankrollers of Arthur 2: On
the Rocks, that Moore’s Hollywood star had ascended fleetingly, however (Dudley
did still have the good grace to suggest his old comedy buddy and sometime
jealous sparring partner Peter Cook for Supergirl,
which if nothing else, means there are some distractingly offbeat scenes in the
picture). He doesn’t even have a part to bring anything to here, and the extent
of the “comedy” appears to be Patch (his character) punning on words and
phrases with “self” in them as “elf” (doing similarly with “Vendequm”, the
actual name of the elvish people, would have been a stretch). Moore’s a likeable
presence, but even that begins to be tested here.
As for the title character, the role eventually went to the
big Lebowski himself. Not Jeff, but David Huddleston, who was much more effective
ranting at the Dude more than a decade later than attempting to twinkle and bestow
beaming beneficence on all and sundry here (excepting an alarmingly selfish –
elfish – predilection for becoming dispirited and sulking at the prospect that
someone other than he might be bringing children happiness when Patch’s
presents become a big hit). There’s something a bit off about Huddleston’s
Claus, particularly when he abducts a couple of kids to his North Pole pad for
a year. On the other hand, Judy Cornwell is a suitably mumsy Mrs (Anya) Claus.
B.Z.: Are you from the Federal Trade Commission?
Patch: No, I’m from the North Pole.
Patch: No, I’m from the North Pole.
We should just be grateful Salkind had to settle on C-lister
John Lithgow for B.Z., as he’s the solitary element that goes some way towards
salvaging Santa Claus (although, we
have to wait an eternity for him to actually show up). Names such as Gene Hackman,
Dustin Hoffman, Harrison Ford and Burt Reynolds were mooted, regardless of
their suitability, before it went to Lithgow, who had recently showed just how
unhinged he could be in The Adventures of
Buckaroo Banzai Across the 8th Dimension. His performance here
isn’t on that level, but it’s still the perfect antidote to the sickly
sentiment and insipid goodwill sprawled across the rest of the movie.
Patch: Don’t you believe in Santa Claus?
B.Z.: Why should I? He never brought me anything.
B.Z.: Why should I? He never brought me anything.
Patch: That’s probably because you were a naughty
boy.
B.Z.: Yes, I guess I was no angel.
When we first see him, unrepentant toy manufacturer B.Z. is
being prosecuted for selling flammable dolls. Patch drops in on him, his
attempts at automating production of the North Pole’s frankly barrel-scraping
toys having gone down like a lead balloon when they start falling apart (“Returns? We’ve never had returns!”)
Lithgow’s a delight in his gleeful embrace of avarice, even turning Patch’s
giveaway (fairy dust coated puce candy that causes the consumer to float) into
a business opportunity (“All that good PR”:
not a million miles away from the attitude struck by Macy in Miracle on 34th Street).
B.Z.: We’ll bring it out on March 25 and we’ll
call it… Christmas II!
If the entire movie had been focussed on B.Z., we might have
been onto something. As it is, there’s no arc for Patch, who simply decides he
wants to return to the North Pole (no conversation or contrition precedes this)
and is persuaded to “juice up the formula”
for his farewell creation, candy canes that are discovered to “react to extreme heat and turn volatile”.
At least B.Z.’s reaction to this news is characteristically fiendish; he’s not to
blame “if these people are so reckless as
to have radiators in their houses” and would have fled to Brazil were it
not for the arrival of the Plod, and a candy cane sending him into orbit (I
might suggest the climax, in which Patch is rescued by Santa, is rushed and
garbled, but it’s still far preferable to the torturous first hour).
Santa Claus: Wanna go for a ride?
The other element of the movie that’s sure to make you baulk
is the frickin’ kids. For some reason, B.Z.
isn’t horribly mean to niece Cornelia (Carrie Kei Heim), despite her being
a toothless brat straight out of a Dickens parody. Even worse is Joe (Christian
Fitzpatrick), a streetwise street urchin sporting a leather jacket newly bought
by costuming, who just needs the kindness of Santa to make it all alright. It’s
a miracle – the miracle of Christmas? – he doesn’t laugh derisively when Santa
presents him with a hand carved Patch figurine as a present. He should have
thrown it at him. Fortunately, to maintain some balance, we are offered
evidence the true meaning of Christmas, as Joe tucks into a McDonald’s cheeseburger
and a Coke, universally acknowledged symbols of contentment and sugary bliss.
And succumbing to heart disease and tooth rot.
Patch: I’m entirely elf-taught.
Santa Claus leaves
a few questions outstanding, such as: why are all the elves at the North Pole
male? What is their magic elixir (“Both
of you will live forever. Like us” Claus and Anya are informed), and why
would anyone want to spend eternity with Burgess Meredith, Melvyn Hayes and
Christopher Ryan making tacky toys? Do the reindeer get flogged to near death
on their Christmas Eve journey, or is that fairy dust like speed (“Time travels with you” Santa is told,
but what about the poor deers)? As for Santa’s decision to make a list of
naughty and nice children, it’s a prime example of sanctioned eavesdropping on a
Big Brother scale.
Patch: It gives me a real feeling of
elf-confidence.
Unsurprisingly, since
Superman only eventually got lucky making us believe a man can fly after
many botched tests, the effects in Santa
Claus are frequently crummy. There is some flat out dreadful green screen,
of a standard that would even have looked cheap in an episode of Doctor Who at the time. Dudley’s space
sled is meant to look daft, so I guess it fulfils that remit. To be charitable,
the fairy dust effect under Santa’s sled is okay, and the animatronic reindeer
are quite endearing; Donner gets a big laugh (which makes one more than Moore) with
a POV shot of his vertiginous response to their first flight. And is that the sound
effect from The Man in the White Suit when
Patch is making his candy?
BZ: Do you ever have one of those nights when
you just want to drop a bomb on the whole world?
Santa Claus: The Movie
is reputed to have cost $50m. It made about half that, opening against Rocky IV (which opened to four times the
take of its nearest competitor) in a December landscape that was something of a
wilderness (Back to the Future was
still in the Top 10 after 22 weeks, and the previous week’s number one had been
King Solomon’s Mines, scarcely
believably). Apparently – this is plain
confounding – TriStar executives, who released the movie, believed Supergirl was a masterpiece and would
become a megahit, so the mind boggles at the delusions they must have nursed
over Santa Claus. Outside of
Lithgow’s venerable presence, the picture is a descent into the ninth layer of
saccharine hell, a quite repellant exercise in materialism from someone whose
main artistic consideration hitherto had been how to make two movies for the
price of one (and not tell his actors – hence “the Salkind Clause”) I suspect the only
way Santa Claus: The Movie might have
worked would have been as a Muppets outing,
self-mocking of its dreadful indulgences as it went along.
Agree? Disagree? Mildly or vehemently? Let me know in the comments below.